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Qi Yun maintained the pace of a Traveling Monk, journeying south.

Time flowed like water, passing quietly. In the blink of an eye, more than two months had gone by.

During these two months, he had crossed prefectures and provinces, forded rivers and scaled mountains.

He truly witnessed how the influence of this "Earthly Buddha Country" seeped in from the outside, layer by layer, until it penetrated to the very bone.

At first, the changes near the border were relatively mild—just altered architecture, different clothing for the populace, and the gradual rise of Brahma Chanting.

But the deeper he went into the heartland of Nanyin, the more profound the signs became, even revealing a kind of unquestionable "order" and "solemnity."

The mountains, rivers, and Earth Veins seemed to have been combed by a pair of invisible, giant hands. Many once-perilous and jagged peaks had their edges forcibly smoothed, or had colossal Buddhist Shrines and Scripture Banners erected on their summits.

The courses of rivers became unnaturally straight and gentle, and uniformly designed water-and-land ritual sites were built at many of the bends.

The flow of the Spiritual Mechanism between Heaven and Earth was also channeled into a fixed rhythm, losing the spontaneity of natural Creation and gaining the traces of artificial planning.

The farmlands and footpaths were as neat and uniform as a chessboard.

The types of crops became monotonous, mostly drought-resistant and easily harvested millet and beans—varieties that were said to "nurture the body and mind and reduce worldly desires."

In the fields, simple stone tablets engraved with scriptures were a common sight.

During breaks from their labor, the farmers would silently chant while facing the tablets.

In the towns and villages, it was nearly impossible to find any Daoist Temples, ancestral halls, or any places of worship not belonging to the Buddhist Sect.

The original temples had either been demolished or completely renovated, their statues uniformly replaced with the Golden Bodies of Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and Arhats.

Marketplaces still existed and trade continued, but there was less shouting and clamor, replaced by silent bartering or hushed inquiries about prices.

On shop signs, Sanskrit sutras written in Cinnabar and gold lacquer replaced the auspicious phrases of the past.

The expressions of the pedestrians he encountered on the road grew increasingly uniform.

It was a tranquility born of long-term indoctrination, bordering on numbness.

They would still press their palms together and bow to a monk like Qi Yun, who was clearly a man of practice, but behind the respect in their eyes was mostly emptiness, lacking any vibrant curiosity or awe.

Children were also rarely seen playing rowdily; most quietly imitated their parents’ prayer gestures.

At such a young age, the lively innocence of childhood was already hard to find in their eyes.

Qi Yun also noticed that every few hundred miles, a grand-scale "Revolving Wheel Temple" invariably stood at a strategic point.

These temples had a stern and imposing atmosphere. They were not just centers of faith, but also seemed to function as post stations, inspection points, and even some kind of hub.

Within them were stationed Buddhist Cultivators of considerable Cultivation. Incense burned brightly, and a faint golden Buddha Light Dharma Realm enveloped the surrounding dozens of miles, connecting with the Earth Vein to form nodes in a vast network.

The closer one got to these Revolving Wheel Temples, the more pronounced the feeling of one’s Heart and Spirit involuntarily calming and distracting thoughts fading away became.

Ordinary people might only feel a sense of inner peace.

But to someone as perceptive as Qi Yun, this was nothing less than a continuous and gentle immersion and guidance of the Divine Soul.

’A subtle transformation that reshapes the very world... What an incredible undertaking,’ Qi Yun mused, his assessment of the Overseas Buddhist Cultivators’ scheme in crossing the eastern sea rising yet again.

This was by no means a simple spreading of faith.

It was an attempt to fundamentally reshape the land and its culture from the ground up.

On this day, the autumn sun was slanting west.

Qi Yun finally saw the silhouette of towering city walls on the horizon.

It was one of the three secondary capitals that protected the Capital Region outside the Nanyin Imperial City—Yingtian City.

This city was the old capital of Nanyin, with a long history and deep heritage. Although it was not the current core of the Buddha Country, its status was still significant.

However, as soon as he came within a dozen or so miles of Yingtian City, Qi Yun sensed something was off.

The "Buddha Country aura" here was still dense. Buddhist Flags fluttered atop the city walls, and monks at the gates checked ordination permits and maintained order.

But amidst the coming and going crowds, besides the ordinary believers and local residents with their submissive expressions and steady gaits,

there were surprisingly many Righteous Cultivators with distinctly different auras mixed in!

These Cultivators were mostly dressed in various Daoist Robes, fitted martial attire, or scholarly gowns, carrying swords and wearing jade pendants. Their auras—some pure and righteous, some sharp and fierce, some grand and noble—clashed with the harmonious and peaceful Buddha’s Rhyme of the surroundings.

They gathered in groups of three or five, entering and exiting the city gates, or congregating in the teahouses and taverns outside, speaking in low voices.

Most of their faces were veiled with gloom, or even indignation.

What was even more noticeable was that whenever a Buddhist Cultivator in an ochre robe with a condensed aura passed by, these Righteous Cultivators would often stop talking and cast cold glances their way.

Their eyes revealed undisguised dissatisfaction, vigilance, and even a sharp hostility.

The Buddhist Cultivators, for their part, seemed accustomed to this. They either walked straight past without a glance or returned the gesture with a calm but implicitly distant palm-pressed bow.

The two sides were clearly demarcated, with a subtle undercurrent surging between them.

A thought stirred in Qi Yun’s mind. He slowed his steps and retracted his aura to be even more harmonious and harmless, like a true wandering monk who had come from afar, ignorant of the situation, observing everything with a calm gaze.

’So many non-Buddhist Righteous Cultivators have gathered in Yingtian City?’

’This is an unexpected development.’

Following the crowd, Qi Yun slowly walked toward Yingtian City’s tall gate, which was already draped with scripture banners. The light inside the gate tunnel was dim, the Buddhist murals on both walls were vividly lifelike, and the air was thick with the scent of sandalwood.

The monk-guards at the gate had eyes like lightning, scanning everyone who entered the city.

Qi Yun calmly handed over a forged ordination permit he had prepared long ago, modeled after those of the Great Brightness Sect.

The monk-guard checked it and found no issues. He then looked up at the halo behind Qi Yun’s head. Although not ostentatious, it was pure, solid, and clear. A flash of surprise crossed the guard’s eyes.

He immediately pressed his palms together in a return bow, stepped aside, and let him pass.

Stepping through the city gate, the sights of Yingtian City rushed to greet him.

The streets were wide, the buildings orderly, and it was far more prosperous than any town he had seen along the way.

Shops and restaurants still lined the streets, but many of their signs and plaques were adorned with Buddhist sutras and gathas.

Pedestrians were as numerous as threads in a tapestry, and the proportion of cultivators carrying weapons and wearing jade was even higher than what he had seen outside the city.

Brahma Chanting and the sound of bells drifted from several large temples within the city, distant and echoing.

But beneath this prosperity and the sounds of Buddhism, Qi Yun keenly detected a subtle tension.

On the streets, the Buddhist Cultivators and the Righteous Cultivators tended to walk on opposite sides. Even when they passed each other, there was rarely any interaction. When their gazes met, it was as if invisible sparks flew.

In the teahouses and taverns where Cultivators gathered, the atmosphere was often heavy. Conversations were kept to a minimum, and they would frequently cast wary glances at the monks passing by outside the windows.

Occasionally, the sound of an argument would drift from the depths of some alley, only to be quickly suppressed.

Qi Yun found a relatively ordinary-looking inn whose clientele was a mix of all walks of life and checked in. After settling in, he didn’t rush out to gather information. Instead, he sat by the window in his room, quietly listening to the faint discussions from the lobby below and observing the various people coming and going on the street.

"Did you hear? Someone from the Cyan Nether Sword Sect tried to leave the city again and was ’invited’ back at the west gate..."

"Sigh, when will these days end? They call it ’jointly studying Buddhist Skills to protect all living beings,’ but in reality..."

"SHH! Watch your words! The walls have ears!"

"What’s there to be afraid of? Are they going to lock us all up? What’s the difference between Yingtian City now and a gilded cage?"

"I heard it’s even worse over at the Imperial City. The Sect Leaders of several Major Sects have been ’invited’ to ’discuss the Dao’ and haven’t returned..."

"Those bald... those masters from Overseas, what are they really trying to do? Do they really want Nanyin to become a land where nothing but the sound of chanting remains?"

These snippets of conversation, laced with sighs and suppressed anger, reached Qi Yun’s ears.

He picked up a coarse ceramic tea bowl, took a sip of the bland tea, and gazed out the window at Yingtian City as dusk settled.

The city’s lights began to flicker on one by one.

The lotus lanterns hanging from many eaves cast a soft golden glow, mingling with the last wisps of sunset on the horizon and enveloping the entire city in a halo of peace and tranquility.

However, within this seemingly peaceful heartland of the Buddha Country, the indignation of the Righteous Dao and the control of the Buddhist Cultivators had already formed a silent standoff.

Qi Yun set down his tea bowl, his fingertips tapping unconsciously on the tabletop.

’It seems the Buddha Transformation of Nanyin has created considerable friction with the Southern Orthodox Dao...’

He mused internally, piecing together the various details he had seen on his journey over the past two months and heard since entering the city.

The southern region wasn’t just the Nanyin Dynasty.

Across the vast landscape of mountains and rivers, numerous Righteous Sects were entrenched.

The relationship between these Sects and the Nanyin Royal Family was intricate, involving both cooperation and checks and balances, as well as alliances through marriage.

Many Sects had their mountain gates, monasteries, and industrial foundations located within Nanyin’s borders, relying on the Dynasty’s fortune and resources.

In the past, despite occasional friction, they had generally maintained a delicate balance.

Righteous Cultivators also enjoyed courteous treatment when traveling through Nanyin.

Who would have thought that thirty years ago, the Nanyin Emperor would suddenly abdicate his throne to become a monk, and that the Overseas Buddhist Cultivators would then cross the sea and implement the "Buddha Transformation" with lightning speed.

This didn’t just signify a complete shift in the faith of the Dynasty’s upper echelons.

It meant a complete change of ownership for the entire Nanyin territory’s foundations of governance, resource allocation, and even ideology.

For those Righteous Sects rooted here, this was nothing short of a cataclysm.

’No wonder these Cultivators in the city look so hostile.’ Qi Yun’s fingertip lightly touched the table, leaving a faint, damp mark.

’The expansion of the Buddha Country has touched upon their fundamental interests and threatens the very continuation of their Daoist lineage.’

’The conflict between the two sides is likely irreconcilable.’

’It’s just that, from the current situation, the methods of the Overseas Buddhist Cultivators are bizarre and they’ve managed to control the entire situation in a very short time.’

This undercurrent of confrontation in Yingtian City was a microcosm of the relationship between the entire Nanyin Buddha Country and the local Righteous Dao forces.

As his thoughts raced, a figure suddenly appeared in Qi Yun’s mind.

It was the one who had become a Main Soul of his Human Emperor Banner and had infiltrated the Righteous Dao—Xuan Ping Master!

...